Thursday, February 11, 2010

Backflips gone wrong. A retrospective.

I had a bit of an accident the first week I moved to Atlanta. The evidence of which is in the picture of myself you can see to the left. I’m pretty bored and feel like writing something so I might as well spin you a web of stupidity.

Ted and I went to a Braves game with his sister and her dude earlier in the day. We imbibed a good amount of Miller Lite tall cans before leaving and hitting the bars. The bars didn’t offer anything too exciting besides a cross-dresser in a cheerleading outfit. We elected to spend the night drinking heavily to offset the mundane bar experience. We returned to Ted’s apartment, where I slept on his couch until we procured our current apartment, we decided to head to the pool. The pool hours ended at ten, and it was nearing three in the morning, but we didn’t care.

“Fuck the rules!”

We entered the pool and went right to work. Yelling, diving, splashing, general stupidity. It’s amazing nobody called the cops or at least the apartment complex to complain about the noise. The pool is surrounded by apartments and we were yelling like it was two in the afternoon on the Fourth of July while AC/DC played on giant amplifiers next to the pool while bombs exploded from un-oiled tanks.

Eventually, we realized that neither of us had ever done a backfilp. This, of course, had to change. I stood on the edge of the pool, facing out, and jumped backwards with no real plan in mind. I had watched the Olympics in the past and played a lot of Tony Hawk, so I felt I was qualified to just go for it. I jumped, pulled my legs up, and held until I crashed into the water.

“Did I get all the way around?”

“Pretty much. My turn.”

We practiced our backfilps until we had them perfected. This new skill, of course, would come in handy later. However, we couldn’t stop there. Backflips turned into running backflips which turned into gainers (spinning the opposite way of your momentum). Jumping off of chairs followed that before I decided to do a harmless swan dive. Pocahontas did one in the Disney movie, can’t be too dangerous, right?

I jumped, with impeccable form, and entered the water. In my enthusiasm, I forgot the pool was only five feet deep. I hit the water with enough force to travel ten. After breaking the water tension I immediately hit the concrete. My hands scraped along the bottom like I was clearing snow off of my windshield, followed by my face that hit like a half-deflated basketball.

I stood up and immediately grabbed my teeth to make sure they were still there. Luckily, they held strong. I walked towards the edge of the pool and Ted noticed something was wrong. I got out. He followed me and inspected my wounds.

Nose isn’t broken, teeth aren’t missing, can still walk. Success. Everything else is merely details. I grabbed my towel and felt the blood begin to run. My face was pretty much covered in blood as we walked back to his apartment, joking along the way. It would have been very easy to get embarrassed or mad about what happened, but that wouldn’t be fun. The blood dripped down my face, onto the pavement, onto my chest, and all we could do was laugh. It was just too ridiculous to take it seriously. Sure, I could have broken my neck, but, I didn’t. We made it out so who fucking cares.

I went into the bathroom and looked at my face, or, I guess, what was left of it. Ted grabbed me some band-aids and anti-bacterial cream and I patched myself up, not looking forward to the next day.

When I woke up, I was surprised that my face wasn’t the part of my body that hurt the most. It was my stomach. It seems obvious now, but I hadn’t really thought of it before then: Doing backflips for an hour works out obscure stomach muscles. I didn’t know I had backflip muscles, but I do, and it’s pretty apparent that they were out of shape.

I picked up my phone and saw two messages I had sent the night before. The first was sent a little before three a.m. that said, “Going to the pool, fuck the rules.” The next was sent a little before four a.m. that said, “There is blood everywhere.” That pretty much sums it up.

I walked to the mirror and saw the holes in my face and the chunk of hair that was probably plastered to the bottom of the pool and thought, “Well, I hope I don’t have to go to a job interview for a couple weeks.”

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